The Aftermath
by Nero-Moore
Summary: This has been plaguing me since I re-watched "Not Pictured" a few days ago. Doesn't Dick Casablancas deserve some love afterward? My take on a scene I feel would have been nice. DiVe. Oneshot.


Nights like these she used to star-gaze.

Little Goldilocks with her pigtails and her skinned knees would take Mommy and Daddy by the hand to find that perfect spot on the beach. The blanket would barely fit the three of them lying side by side, but they squeezed together; Veronica enjoyed the safe warmth between her parents. Who could guess how long they'd sit there. It changed with each night; sometimes it'd be an hour sometimes it'd be closer to two. But however long they did stay out, it didn't matter because she was with two people who loved her more than life.

This night, though the warm air felt the same and the sparkling stars looked identical, there was only a gaping hole in Veronica's chest. It screamed that no matter how tight Logan held her, she was alone.

"Veronica?"

To be honest, she couldn't tell you when Lamb and the others had arrived, or even when Logan had made the time to call the police. But here the sheriff was, looming over her, concern shaded across his face. It was an odd emotion for her to see. It hadn't been there since she was seven years old. Veronica had come running to him with tears in her eyes and a nice cut across her left bicep, which left a light scar in the end. He turned on his heels on the gravel rooftop and headed back to where Sacks was talking with Logan. His silent glances every-so-often were the only comfort that Lamb could offer for her now. She was no longer seven, but eighteen. And tonight a band-aid wouldn't fix everything.

Closing her eyes, the whole world was spinning and she could feel it. One thousand miles an hour and her grip on the ground was beginning to falter. Veronica would have given anything to just let go. It would have been so much easier when everything felt like it was blurring together, going in fast-forward. One minute she was on the roof and in the next instant, they were in the elevator. A blink later and a traumatized Mac was wrapped up in her arms. It felt like bits and pieces of the night were missing. Like all of it was wrong and soon she'd wake up in her bed to the smell of bacon, ready to graduate in front of her friends and proud father.

The mere thought made a pathetic whimper escape her lips. Logan pulled her close to him again and she breathed in the scent of cheap, mini-fridge alcohol and some kind of expensive cologne. She wanted to feel safe, like Logan understood what with his horrible family background, but…could anyone really understand? His mother's death had been tough on Logan, but their connection was nothing like Veronica and her father's. They'd been one another's lifelines and the thought of him – all of it just made her nauseous.

The graduation party was still in full swing by this hour and Lamb began patrolling the crowd for one specific face. The other teenagers' eyes grew wide at the sight of the sheriff, certain they'd been busted, but they were none of his concern. No his sole problem was currently sipping hard alcohol from a red plastic cup, that ever mellow smile on his face, as Madison blew him off yet again.

"Oh no, it's the fuzz!" Dick's laugh hit Veronica square in the chest and in this moment she just wanted to run. The room was scorching hot, there were too many people, Lamb's voice was covered over by popular rap artists and vulgar lyrics, her head buzzed as she tried bite back the bile that nipped at her throat. This wasn't fair; it was never going to be fair.

And with the sound of a crash, the whole party stopped.

The smell of blood reached Veronica's nostrils and that was it. She pulled from Logan's arms just as he moved to check on his injured friend. The guest bedroom of the hotel suite provided no comfort though, as she could still hear Dick's anguished yells mixed with half-hearted sobs and each time his fist connected with the dry wall. Lips quivering, she sank down to the floor, her back against the door, hands covering her ears just to make it stop. Flashbacks of her mother and father's screaming matches crept into the back of her mind. This was just how she'd sat all those years ago while harsh words and empty beer bottles were flung around their old home. Lianne Mars had always been an angry drunk.

Caught up in her past, Veronica's attention on the present had dwindled. All the things she missed about her family, all the problems they'd had had blocked out the images of Cassidy Casablancas and his twisted decisions. Veronica still remembered the day her mother left. There'd only been a note and the woman had never looked back. Her father had been devastated and buried himself even farther into Lily's murder case as if somehow that was going to make everything better. He failed to realize that his daughter was falling apart till she nearly snapped. And then one day they were closer than close with only one another to depend on against a town that had alienated them from everything. Her father was her protector. Her father was her hero. Her father was…dead.

The air rushed into her lungs too quickly and she choked on a rising sob.

Her father, Keith Mars, was dead. Dead.

And then she cried.

Veronica cried for those kids on the bus and the lives they could have led. She cried for Cassidy Casablancas and every unseen emotional scar. She cried for her father and how simply his life had been taken from him. She cried for Lily and the lack of justice brought to her death. She cried for herself and all the trivial things that had seemed so goddamn important in her life. She cried.

By the time the tears subsided and she sucked in a long breath to calm her nerves, the silence all around her had become deafening. The rap music, the people, the footsteps, the yelling – gone. To be honest though, Veronica had no idea how long she'd sat there. Everyone had most likely gone home or to give their statements down at the police station. She was alone once again.

And as she walked from the bedroom, she found she was wrong.

Dick Casablancas had always been the ham of the school. He loved to make inappropriate comments, slap girls asses and basically be the center of attention. When she hung with Duncan, Veronica would roll her eyes and chuckle along. After Duncan, Veronica would just roll her eyes. She'd never been too thrilled with Dick's sense of humor, but she let him slide by since he really did her no harm. Still, he always remained on her radar in one way or another. She'd never seen him without a smile on his face and an obnoxious comment on the tip of his tongue. That's just who Dick Casablancas was, another pretty 09er living off Daddy's work and hitting on all the beautiful girls without a single care in the world.

That was until his brother took a walk off a roof.

Thinking of it made her stomach churn. It was then though that Dick Casablancas turned his gaze on Veronica and there was no big smile and biting comment. His eyes were bloodshot and she took a step towards the couch as he managed a weak, 'hey ronnie'.

"Hey Dick…" Her voice had a faux strength behind it, like if you listened hard enough you could hear her crying inside at the thought of this entire sick night.

His right hand was bandaged in gauze, most likely from his losing war with the wall earlier. He didn't seem to really notice though, his gaze locked on her as she checked him over to make sure he was still breathing. Of course, breath in one's body didn't really make life, did it? Veronica knew that from multiple experiences. When Lily died, when her mother left, when she thought Duncan was her brother, when Aaron was acquitted, standing up on that roof tonight, all were perfect examples of times when her lungs were still taking in and out air, but she could have sworn she were a walking corpse.

"Shitty night, huh?" His voice sounded so much like the Dick she knew him to be, nonchalant and almost upbeat. Then she looked into his eyes. A mix of sadness and confusion by his brother's actions sent a wave through her. And Veronica thought about her shitty night and his shitty night and how her Dad was dead and how Cassidy was dead. Something broke and a strangled sob shot from her throat. Her slender hands covered his face in embarrassment at breaking down at this moment and her back hunched slightly so her head was near her knees.

Moments later warmth enveloped her and Veronica Mars felt herself lean into Dick's embrace, burying her face into the crook of his neck. His voice was soft as he comforted her over her loud sobs and she was soothed by the way he said her name. This should have been Logan. They should have been together…but they weren't. No instead she was safe in Dick Casablancas' arms, like a scene straight out of the Twilight Zone. And for some reason, maybe because of all the hurt, this seemed to fit.

By the time she was finished, the clock had flipped over to the AM and she already had three voicemails on her cell phone. She could already guess that they were semi-hysterical ones from Logan, worried and love-struck. What would he think if she told him where she was? Dick held her after the crying had subsided, his t-shirt damp with salty tears. Veronica let him because she wasn't entirely sure if she'd actually be able to face him in that moment. But he pulled back after a few minutes and she stared up at him with glossy eyes and pursed lips.

She wanted to tell him how sorry she was, but it would sound too rehearsed.

She wanted to tell him that her father was dead, but she didn't want to make it all about her.

She wanted to reveal all that Beaver did, but no one wanted to hear their dead little brother was a fiend.

"I was suppose to protect him…" And in that moment as she stared up at him, Veronica made a choice. It was probably a stupid one, but the blond would be able to stash it away with all those mistakes under her bed. The collection was growing quite large.

And kissing Dick Casablancas? That could go right between not believing Carrie about Mr. Rooks and ever believing that Aaron Echolls wasn't scum.

He tasted like stale booze and mint gum. Not the most pleasant thought, but it was somehow addicting and against her better judgment, Veronica more than willing wrapped her arms securely around his neck, pulling him closer. Dick's fingers splayed themselves across her lower back and his teeth nipped teasingly at her lower lip, begging entrance. But as if someone had flipped a switch, Veronica pulled away.

Her breathing heavy she stared up at him and brushing a bang back from her face, Dick released his hold on her. She did the same, a pink tint rising to her pale cheeks.

"Go home, Ronnie…"

And she did. She went home where Logan was pacing outside her door, cell phone permanently stuck to his ear. The moment he caught sight of her though, he dropped everything and swept her off her feet. She let him. She embraced Logan tightly and kissed him deeply and assured him she was fine. As far as he knew she was out driving. Honestly, she felt horrible for lying to him – but that didn't stop her from enjoying the understanding passed between her and Dick's glances before they were covered up by sexual innuendos and corny jokes.

* * *

**A/N:** ta-da! I always loved Dick's character and felt horrendous with the whole tragedy at the end of season two. Everyone involved was so messed up and one day this idea just popped into my head! Hope you enjoyed it. Comments are appreciated.


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